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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675347">email number #1</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/breddtea/pseuds/breddtea'>breddtea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, agressive yearning, email, please i wrote this at 3 am</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:22:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/breddtea/pseuds/breddtea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brett finds Eddy's old email address and sends Eddy multiple emails containing his thoughts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddy Chen/Brett Yang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>email number #1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Email Number #1, 2:03am:<br/>So I've found this email address you used to use, and let me tell you reading those absolutely cringe emails I sent makes me want to just die on the spot. Anyways, I thought it'd be a good way to let my feelings out if I email you here. You're never gonna read whatever gets sent here so it doesn't really matter anyway. Like who's gonna log into an email address from 2008. But maybe 2008 you would have loved me the way 2020 me loves you now...</p><p>---------------------<br/>Email Number #5, 12:56am:</p><p>Every night I pray for you not to sleep. To lay tireless, staring at your ceiling as I hope that the god's of sleep don't bless you. And every night I hope for you to find yourself crawling out of bed and walking down the darkened hallway to my bedroom. You push the door open slightly- you greet me with a softened smile. I sit up, rub my eyes and see your face gently illuminated by the light peering around the curtain- your hazy eyes looking down at mine. You don't say a word as you step past my door and shut it behind you. You lift yourself down into my bed and lie next to me, you mutter out these words in a sleepiest and softest voice you can do: "Can't sleep." I wrap an arm around your broad shoulders and pull you in closer to my chest. </p><p>Every night that doesn't happen. You sleep comfortably in your bed and never find your way into mine. </p><p>But maybe you're me. Maybe you're the one waiting for me to wander down our hallway and step into your bed. I'd hate to entertain that fact but it just seems so fucking unreasonable for you to want me in that way. You never have- never will. But fuck I wish you did. You always parade your lovers around me, always showing them to me. It's like your mocking my love, like your claims of loving them is a brag that says, "I love this person in a way I could never love you,"- and those words as though they are spitting at me. But nothing pains my tired and aching heart more than knowing you could never love me in the same way I love you. </p><p>I reach out for your body, your hand, your soul, your heart, your anything but you're not there. You never are. And I want you so fucking much. I need you so fucking much. But every small glance, every small gesture or I don't fucking know every small anything fills me with the same naive, futile hope. Hope that you could love me. </p><p>And you don't. Because of course, you don't. </p><p>I think I should sleep now, but fuck I'm angry. If only I was angry enough to tell you, just to fucking say something. But hey, I've never really been the angry type. Good night, I hope you're sleeping well right now because I won't be. </p><p>-b </p><p>---------------------<br/>Email Number #7, 6:52am:</p><p>The sun is rising now. That beautiful orange light pouring through my slightly opened window, the still morning chill has always been so nice and accompanied by the sunrise has always been a perfect combination. I've always thought of you when the sun rises, it's so beautiful and warming- like you. The orange and warm sky has always mesmerised me. </p><p>But there are very rare times when I find myself either awake or filled with enough energy to actually watch the sunrise, but when I do it feels so perfect. Watching everything go from cold and dark to warm and a beautiful shade of orange. It sounds a little weird for me to be going on about the sun rising, right? But there are thoughts that you just keep for yourself for forever and some you write in an email to your best friend who you're hopelessly in love with. </p><p>But as I sit here, completely alone, watching the sunrise from the horizon painting the sky orange I can't help but think of you. Think of what this moment would be like if you were with me. I can't help but think of what we'd be doing instead of being in alone by ourselves, one asleep and one helplessly typing on his laptop but instead awake yet full of that morning haziness. The sun painting not my or your but our bedroom orange as it rises up. And I can't help but think of your arms wrapped around my waist, my back resting on your bare chest, you smiling down at me, kissing me on the cheek, and me having never felt so happy. </p><p>But that simply isn't happening, I'm half sat up and half lead in bed, by myself and nothing but the gentle whir from my laptop fan to keep me company. You're probably still asleep right now, God knows you'd never be awake at this hour but I can fantasise. I definitely can fantasise, these emails are living proof I can. You know, one day these fantasies and hopeless pining will be gone. I'll get my sun rises with you, I'll get to be in your arms. But right now, it's just me and these stupid emails. </p><p>-b </p><p>---------------------<br/>Email Number #9, 12:16am:</p><p>You insisted on watching a movie tonight. You usually do- it's actually quite endearing. And for some reason, it was a horror film, that you insisted on watching. But I couldn't watch that movie. All I could do was stare at you. My eyes were hungry, they were starving at you were just what they wanted. God, do you even know how hard it is to stop glancing at you? To stop just staring at your lips? To stop thinking of all the things I'd like them to do? To stop thinking of all the times I'd like to kiss them?</p><p>And so, it's such a shame I cannot kiss you. It's such a shame I haven't even tasted them once. And it's such a shame you cannot kiss me. You cannot place your hand on my cheek and press a plentiful of kisses on my lips. And so what did all the others before have to do to get you to kiss them? I'm disappointed I cannot feel your lips on me. I have to resort myself to gathering glances that disappear the moment you look away and wondering if you're looking at mine. I wish you'd stare at me so hopelessly (like I do). I wish you'd just fucking kiss me. I wish I could then just kiss you back. I wish I could have turned off the movie and focus on you only- nothing else. </p><p>I wish I could just fucking kiss you.</p><p>But the movie ended, it was good. I enjoyed it. But this is not what these emails are about. They're about my desperate love for you. The desperate love I'll never have. Maybe one day I'll just do it. Say fuck it, tell you I love you, give you the kiss I've always wanted to give you, and not care about a thing. But I'm scared, Eddy. I'm scared of how you'll feel. I've always been able to tell you everything and trust you with every bone in my body. But not with this. I wish this would just go, I'm fucking sick of it now. I'm sick of loving you. I love you so much and for what? You will never. Never. Love me back in the same way. I wish my feelings had an off switch but there is no such thing. I'm stuck here. In love with you. And I can't tell if I hate it or if I hate you. </p><p>Perhaps I should sleep now, I'm too tired to be angry and process feelings properly.</p><p>-b </p><p>---------------------</p><p>Email Number #11, 10:24pm:</p><p>Fuck it's hard to not imagine you when I touch myself. My thoughts wander off to the prettiest women or the most handsome men I could possibly conceive of but my thoughts always come back to you. They always do. I can't help but imagine your big hands just wrapped around me- tugging away. And late at night when seemingly everyone but me is asleep, I can't help but imagine you pulling on my hair- making me swallow more and more. </p><p>Images of you just don't leave my head when this happens. You're so fucking hot, and you know it. You know you're attractive and holy fuck you are. But it'd bring me so much pleasure in knowing what you'd look like completely undone. And it'd bring me even more pleasure for you to call and scream out my name like it's the last words you'll ever say. You'd look so fucking attractive like that, and I'd find it even more attractive knowing I was the one who caused you to be like that. </p><p>I'd love to have your hands run down my bare body, as sweat trails down both our bodies, for those beautiful hands of yours to touch every inch of me and for those very same hands to bring me to the hardest climax I've ever had. I could write in detail every sexual thing I've wanted you to do or for me to do to you but I'd be here well past sunrise, but I think I'd be too hard to even write for longer than an hour about that. I get hard just thinking about it so for me to write it all down in painful and heart wrenching detail would be the death of cock. But I'll stop being so vulgar and crude, instead I'll go grab a glass of water, cool myself down, and join you in our living room.</p><p>-b </p><p>---------------------</p><p> </p><p>Email Number #14, 3:27am:</p><p>I just woke up and I can't go back to sleep. The plague of random insomnia has infected me so I shall not be sleeping too soon. Instead, I'll think of you. I'll think of you doing the very same thing I imagine you to do. To walk down our hallway, stand in the other's doorway, and slip into his bed, and sleep soundly knowing you're safe in his arms.</p><p>But I won't do that. Neither of us will, neither of us ever will.</p><p>Maybe I could do that, would you mind? Would you care to see me in your bed right now? Would you care to wrap your arms around me, and hold me till I'm fast asleep? </p><p>But you're asleep right now, so there will not be any late-night rendevous in one another's bed, filled with one and another's affection but only your light snores and my lack thereof.</p><p>-b</p><p>---------------------<br/>Email Number #15, 4:16am:</p><p>I was wrong. You weren't asleep. You were awake just like me. </p><p>You offered me a glass of water, I accepted, I said thank you, and I took a sip. Then you suggested we go out on the balcony, claiming that, "the cold air will make you want to go to sleep." While I wasn't and still not sure about the logistics of that, it did seem like a nice idea.</p><p>The sky was very clear, there were so many stars out. It looked so beautiful. I'm inclined to say it was romantic. You stood right there, next to me, our arms resting on the railing. Our shoulders touching, you felt so warm- you're always so warm. It felt nice, I felt so happy to just be stood there next to you. Perhaps I'll start sleeping less if it means we can almost star gaze together. </p><p>Have I told you how beautiful you look in the moonlight? I mean it when I say you're the most beautiful being on this planet. The moonlight reflects off your skin like the moonlight itself was made to reflect off of you. You practically glow. I wanted to reach out to you, I wanted to know how you felt, I wanted to know how your everything felt, I wanted to know how exactly my fingers feel against your cheek and how they feel dragging down your jaw.</p><p>-b</p><p>---------------------<br/>Email Number #18, 2:34am:</p><p>I can't sleep again and it's got me thinking. And typing sure seems better than staring endlessly at my ceiling. </p><p>How do you do it? I'm hopelessly, irreplaceably, completely in love with you. I've told you before. It's not a lie. It's a fact. A fact I think I've come to hate, but I do love you. I'd fucking do anything for you. Do you understand the weight of that? Do you really understand that Eddy Chen? Because you don't. Because you'll never feel this way. </p><p>I just hate it. <br/>I hate it so much. </p><p>But at the same time, I simply cannot stop myself from loving you. I pull myself along with every little glance, every little touch, anything. FUCKING ANYTHING. I can't help it. I don't want to stop loving you, you mean the world to me. But I want it to stop. It just hurts so much. </p><p>-b</p><p>---------------------<br/>Email Number #1, 3:42pm:</p><p>... I didn't know this was how you felt.</p><p>-e</p><p>---------------------</p><p>Brett was lead across their living room sofa, his laptop on resting on his stomach, he logged into his email, the one he used for sending his thoughts to Eddy. It had become a daily occurrence now, to log in and type away his feelings. But this time. This time was different. There was something in his inbox. Brett's eyes widened with dread, his heart and mind both racing. His thoughts being concluding with, "Holy fuck,". He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to feel. All he could do was stared at his laptop screen. Brett's first thought was to just ignore Eddy, but it's not like he could ignore someone he lived with. Especially someone who was in the room next door. All Brett could do was to shut his laptop, and place his head in his hands. </p><p>Brett felt his world crashing around him. Nothing felt stable, there was nothing he could do about it. </p><p>Brett peered his eyes from out of his hands to see Eddy. Probably the last person he wanted to see. Eddy looked weary, looking as though he was approaching Brett with caution. He sat at the furthest end of the sofa- his head facing downward. No words spilt out from either of their mouths. Eddy's face turned to face Brett's and made what seemed to be painful eye contact.</p><p>"So," Eddy began and ended, not sure how to exactly say or even process what he had just read. "Uh, well, I've read the emails. And you're in love with me?" Eddy spoke slowly, his words with no particular emotion for either of them to pick out.</p><p>All Brett could do is nod slowly, his eyes refusing to look at Eddy, his face filled with guilt, dread, regret, pain and anything else. There was silence once again. And that silence lasted what felt like forever. Neither of them said anything as the tension just filled the room. <br/>All Eddy could think to do was shuffle up the sofa, so he was nearer to Brett, and wrap his arms around the other’s shoulders. Like he had done several times before to comfort him. He could feel the other’s wet tears bleed through his t-shirt and stroked his hand up and down Brett’s back. </p><p>“It’ll be okay Brett. I’m here,” Eddy said and held the other tighter. “We can talk about it some other time.”</p><p>Brett’s sobbing stop, a small voice tumbled from his mouth, “What if I don’t want to talk about it? What if I’d rather never know instead of having my heart ripped out from my chest, huh?”</p><p>Eddy peeled his body away from Brett’s and placed his hand’s on the sides of Brett’s upper arms. He stared down into Brett’s wet eyes, looking, searching for the right thing to say that would stop his dearest friend from crying. But no such words could be found. Eddy wasn’t even sure there could be any ‘right’ words for this moment. </p><p>Eddy, still keeping his hands in the place on Brett’s arms, slowly moved his face to Brett’s. He let out a deep breath and kissed Brett on his mouth. It wasn’t more than a simple kiss. Brett tensed as Eddy placed his lips where he did which made his grip tighten. </p><p>Eddy pulled away. </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Brett pulled Eddy back to where he was meant to be: against his lips.</p>
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